


'Til the End of Time

by ForAllLove



Series: House for the Holidays [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAllLove/pseuds/ForAllLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He figured he could allow flowers and hearts one day a year, for Wilson’s sake, with minimal damage to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til the End of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I began this during very boring piano 'lessons' years ago, and finally decided to finish it - only to find it done already! It's goofiness and fun, and I like it still.
> 
> Perhaps, in another few years, the Thanksgiving one will happen and this series will be complete. =)

House hated Valentine’s Day.

Seriously, an entire day devoted to worn-out, overdramatic declarations of undying love? The air alone could give him diabetes, never mind the candy.

It was just that things were different when he had someone to love him. He figured he could allow flowers and hearts one day a year, for Wilson’s sake, with minimal damage to himself. After all the sneaking around Wilson had been doing recently — as if House wouldn’t notice! — he was expecting romantic gestures on an epic scale.

Yet the day was gone, and nothing spectacular had attacked him with mush.

Not so much as a dandelion.

Not that House wanted anything like that. Still, he expected more from Wilson.

He scowled out the window until his breath fogged it up. Then he scowled at the fog. He’d better not have been forced to endure this most repulsive of holidays for nothing. Wasn’t Wilson supposed to be the queen of all things romance? He should be _dying_ to spew love on everything. Well, if he was holding back out of respect for House’s curmudgeonly reputation, it was too late to drop any permissive hints now. Then there was the sneaking to consider.

A tiny worry that Wilson might have used up his romance on someone else had just crept into House’s mind when Wilson’s fingers twined through his.

“You okay?”

“Peachy,” House retorted. Wilson didn’t pull away or complain about driving one-handed, so House left their hands tangled on the seat between them; Wilson wasn’t getting any emotional displays for free.

***

When Wilson only relinquished his fingers to get out of the car, then scurried around to House’s side to recapture them, House’s expectations began to rise. Maybe there’d be something spectacular after all.

Wilson let him go just inside the front door, and he was confused all over again.

There didn’t seem to be anything pink or fluffy lurking behind the furniture. He looked to Wilson for any tells, but he’d already parked himself on the piano bench, his expression an unsettling mix of guilty and nervous. House hurried to his precious piano to see what the damage was.

Nothing — not a scratch or even a hidden present.

Wilson huffed once with his lip between his teeth, then painstakingly arranged his fingers on the keys.

When he started to play, House almost fell down.

Wilson was playing “Love Me Tender,” complete with simple chords. Although his eyebrows huddled together in concentration and his fingers were stiff, it was obvious that he’d spent a lot of time practicing. He had never seemed the least bit interested in playing the piano, not when he could listen to House play instead. House was beginning to feel like he’d missed something.

Wilson started fumbling partway through the chorus and gave up with a small distressed sound. House squeezed a slumped shoulder and cleared his throat. “When did you learn to play?”

“I’ve been taking lessons. You weren’t supposed to hear me screwing up.”

House smiled at the top of Wilson’s floofy head. “It wasn’t screwed up.”

Wilson tipped his head back against House’s stomach to pout. “But I got lost.”

“Yeah, that was impressive,” House said, dropping a kiss into Wilson’s hair to sweeten things.

When he pulled back, the pout looked more coy than petulant. “I think I could do better if you play with me,” Wilson suggested.

The tilt of his head, the lips and lashes arranged _just so_ left House wondering if all that fail was part of a plot… until he’d squashed his way onto the left half of the bench and Wilson was _still_ searching for middle C.

House started ad-libbing an accompaniment similar to the strumming of a guitar to occupy himself. He could feel Wilson practically vibrating with excitement. A quick glance confirmed his suspicion that things over there were just as Valentiney as he had predicted. House rolled his eyes. “Any day now.”

“Oh.”

With their shoulders together, Wilson’s wrist had to bend at such an awkward angle that he completely mucked up the first two measures. He looped his left arm around House’s waist and scooted closer. “Start over?”

House determined not to look at him. They were going to play this stupid song if that was the only thing they did _all night_. He scowled at the keys for good measure.

Wilson took his sweet time before joining in, but when he did… 

“ _Love me tender, love me sweet…_ ” 

House gawped at him in mild horror. 

Wilson just smiled, his chin on House’s shoulder, and kept singing. “ _You have made my life complete…_ ” 

The pieces finally clicked into place. Whether or not he intended for them to play together, Wilson had chosen this song, for House, for Valentine’s Day, weeks in advance. He’d taken lessons so he could learn to play the piano for no other reason than that House liked it, and spent hours practicing just to tell his boyfriend how much— 

“ _All my dreams fulfilled, for, my darling—_ ” 

There was an explosion of sour notes from House’s end of the piano. He laughed, sheepishly. “Now I’m messing up.” 

Wilson peered into his face even as he tried to look away. “Aw, honey…” 

Schmoopy pet names crossed a line somewhere, but, with his lover gathering him close, House was too distracted to complain yet — Wilson’s hair was poking him in the eye, and getting up his nose. “I love you,” he sniffled. 

Wilson interpreted this as romance and squeezed a little tighter. “I love you, too,” he whispered, “and I always will.” 


End file.
